Angel sits at the gates of the city
She cannot fly, but who will pity
A broken doll with shattered wings?
They only care for pretty things
Anyway.

Sometimes she sings a mournful song
A row of notes all strung along
A line of bars on a music sheet
Narrow like the city streets
So crowded.

And sometimes you can hear her weep
For all night long she cannot sleep
Her tears are shining drops of gold
As in the dark her fears unfold
In nightmares.

Does no one care for lonely ones?
They lust for gold but never bronze
My angel rots, no longer fair,
And weaves her songs of sad despair
So lonely.

My Angel.